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From the Longest Queue of the World

I

Our ministers are standing at the front
There are many ministers putting up a bold front,
Of what—of what the fack in the world?
Their wives keep company with their ears
Dangling with gold rings over the concrete ground
Swaying to the air that smells of faeces,
As I stood at the end of the queue, cursing
There is little the ministers can do
There is little hope left in humanity;
The long-winded queue passes through
Sewers and toilets and morgues.

The queue is endless
The queue has always existed
The queue is getting longer
I’m not even sure what this queue is for;
Am I a prostitute waiting for the gods of gold?
I don’t want to sell my body to the gods.
I don’t want anything from the gods.

II

See the orgy
See them all in the queue
The teachers are wasting papers, rubbing off scum
The guns grope the army men, delighting them
The doctors are rushing, curing mass gonorrhea
The chemists are dying of addiction
The kids are high on whites and blues and powder;

Heroin-laden highway at the side
Overgrown marijuana
And endless bottles of drinks,
See them

Pushing and grabbing to get to the front
See them all in the queue—
See them us all in the queue—
Old and young folks
Men and women
Open urinating
Open defecating
Folks, exposing themselves
Open stimulation
Open self-satisfaction
In this endless queue,
As I’m further pushed back
I don’t even have a space here
This is the fate;
Help me ministers,
Let me just have a word with your oversexed wives
I’m allergic to sagging body parts, climacteric,
Let me just see their gold up close.
Are we in this queue for the gold?

III

This queue is full of zombies,
Life cannot be more ironic.
Let me get out of this queue.
Am I a zombie waiting for death?
That will be so cruel.
I don’t even have words anymore
No gold, no queue, no desire, no more
I’m not even a fortune seeker,
I’m suffocating in my own puke.
What are we waiting for in this queue?